


Every Soap Has Its Home

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur really should have put that soap back where it belonged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Soap Has Its Home

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I had some way to explain or justify this, but I really, really don't. *covers face* I just... I'm not even really sure how this fic happened. I know that it involves a really bizarre trip to the local supermarket a few weeks back, and then being a beta for the crackiest thing I've read in a very, very long time, but... I really have nothing to say for myself. Basically the best description I can come up with for this thing is a modern twist on the Labyrinth of Gedref, but with George instead of Anhora, and soap instead of a dead-then-not-dead unicorn. And then, what might just be the gravest offense of all... The title is a spoof of Poison's "Every Rose Has Its Thorn".

Arthur could not believe that they were out shopping for everyone’s Christmas presents four days before the day, at eleven o’clock at night, at the local supermarket. Why had he allowed his dorm mate to talk him into this? Oh yes, because he was now a poor, starving student, cut off from the family fortune for choosing to earn a degree in Child Psychology, rather than become his father’s political protégé, and therefore could not afford to purchase gifts for his new circle of friends any other way.

The soap aisle caught his eye, and he remembered that the bathroom in the dorm was running low. Glancing at his pale companion, his skin even lighter in the fluorescent light, Arthur stopped to look for antibacterial soap – the foaming kind, since Merlin insisted that the gel felt ‘gooey’, though Arthur privately thought it had more to do with the other boy possessing the mental age of a five-year-old and wanting to watch the soap change from liquid to foam while he pumped.

Merlin, realizing that his friend had stopped, turned back to join his examination of the soaps on offer. “That one says it has Aloe Vera in it,” he said off-handedly. Arthur noted the way his dorm mate absent-mindedly rubbed his wind-chafed hands, and stopped himself from pointing out just how long he had been able to read, instead grabbing the bottle in question and throwing it into their shopping cart.

They started off toward the electronics and media section, resolved once more to find the perfect gifts for their friends. Just as they were about to enter their desired region of the store, a display of holiday-inspired soaps came into view, and Arthur spotted more foaming soaps among them. He reached out to grab a fir-scented one, read the little blurb on the label declaring that it, too, contained Aloe Vera, and put the original soap in its place.

As he pushed the cart forward again, he noticed his dorm mate giving him a scandalized look and raised an eyebrow in return. “Don’t you want to put that soap back where it belongs?” At this, Arthur had to fight the urge to toss the carefully chosen soap at the soft-hearted idiot’s head. He was trying so, so hard to be understanding of all his dorm mate’s quirks, to accommodate his needs, and to ignore the occasional admiring glance that he sent in Arthur’s direction, but Merlin still seemed to think he was an inconsiderate arse.

“No, Merlin. I do not want to put it back. What I want is to get what we need and go home.” Merlin sent him a wounded look in response to Arthur’s waspish tone.

“I just… I guess I just feel bad. You know, for the people who work here. I hate having to figure out what goes where in the resell shop when customers leave things in the wrong section.” And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Arthur chose to put up with all of Merlin’s malarkey because the other boy had such a big heart, and he always put the needs of others before his own.

Determinedly resisting his usual impulse – caving to Merlin’s gentle appeals to his better nature – Arthur continued on his quest for commodities of the entertainment variety.

As they walked on, roaming aisles filled with videos, music, and the various accoutrements required for living in this age of iPods and internet interaction, Merlin could feel the subtle shift in the air, the only tangible evidence of a foreign magic at work. He would tell Arthur of this strange development, but since he had yet to broach the topic of his magic with his friend, he felt that such a revelation would cause more harm than good. He would simply have to keep his magic focused on the so-far benevolent power, in order to keep them both from harm.

In the shadows, a manager watched the two students make their way through the supermarket. The young Pendragon had offended the magic of the store with his lack of respect toward its employees, and it would seek recompense before balance could be restored. But that did not mean he should face the trials alone.  
…  
Finished at last, Arthur felt that they should do whatever necessary to get back to their little dorm room as quickly as possible. It was going on midnight now, and Merlin still had to sit a Biology exam in the morning. “Let’s use the self-checkout. Those checkers look dead on their feet.” They looked bored out of their minds, actually, but Merlin did not need to know every uncharitable thought which went through Arthur’s head.

They followed the instructions as best as they could, but then, “Unauthorized item in the bagging area. Please remove unauthorized item.” What? There was nothing but what they had already scanned in the bagging area! “Unauthorized item in the bagging area. Please remove unauthorized item.” As the computer continued to dictate directions which were impossible to follow, Arthur began to feel his patience fraying. It was late, he was tired - he was going to bash the stupid computerized intelligence into a thousand tiny pieces if it did not shut up in the next five seconds.

Just as he was about to give in and put his thoughts into action, a soft cough drew Arthur’s attention away from the offending machine. “Might I be of some assistance, sirs?” A voice which seemed far too stuffy for a twenty-four hour supermarket issued forth from a thin little man bearing a nametag which labeled him “George: Store Manager”, and holding a pristine handkerchief just in front of his slightly dry-looking lips.

Resisting the desire to tell “George: Store Manager” exactly how long they had been waiting for him – or some other employee, since really anyone would do at this point – to “be of some assistance”, Arthur simply smiled tightly and nodded, uttering a stiffly polite, “yes, please” in response and moving to give the man access to the infuriating machine.

A few keystrokes and several kerchief-covered coughs later, the obsequious little man stepped away. “I believe that should solve the problem, sirs. Please let me know if there is anything else which you require.”

After thanking the man, Arthur found his checkout unobstructed, until, “Arthur, admit it, it’s just not going to scan.” _Swipe. Swipe. Swipe_. Unbelieveable!

“Yes, alright, Merlin. What would you like for me to do about it?” The unspoken, ‘idiot’ was impossible to misunderstand.

“Well, we could… ask for help.” The suggestion sounded more like a question, as Merlin attempted to navigate Arthur’s mercurial mood. He watched his friend’s mouth work silently and prepared for some sort of tirade. But it never came.

“Fine. You stay here and wait with the stuff. I’ll go see if I can find someone to sort this out.... Where did they all go, anyway?” That was odd. Arthur could have sworn there had been people at a few of the checkout lanes. Now, there was not another soul in sight, save Merlin.

And so began the search for a store clerk.

He looked in linens, he looked in appliances. He scoured books and art supplies. He was just beginning to suck in enough air to shout out, once more finding himself in electronics, when a muffled cough which was becoming eerily familiar came to his ears.

Arthur stood still for a moment, mind snagging on a strange thought. Hadn’t he been about to lose his temper the first time George appeared?

Shaking himself from thoughts of what surely must be a coincidence, he turned to see the man in question lowering his little hand kerchief – and wasn’t that just quaint? – from his lips.

“Is there something which you require, sir?”

“There is, in fact. A scarf I wish to purchase isn’t scanning properly. So if you wouldn’t mind…?” Arthur silently congratulated himself on such a calm, collected response, completely devoid of the ire which seethed under the veneer of civility to which he currently clung. He was never shopping for Christmas at the last minute ever again.

“But of course, sir. Lead the way.” The long journey back to checkout was silent save for the coughs George could not seem to contain, and their footsteps, loud in the preternatural quiet of a normally bustling business.

They arrived at the self-checkout lane to see Merlin falling asleep on his feet and Arthur went up to his dorm mate, carefully placing an arm around his shoulders to prevent him from hitting the floor. Meanwhile, the store manager set to work on the finicky checkout machine, somehow coaxing it to accept the previously un-scanable green scarf he wished to give to his sister Morgana. The man completed his task and then, briefly bowing his head to Arthur and his unconscious burden, went on his way.

Following the strange little man’s departure, Arthur finished making his purchase one-handed, his arm still supporting his slumbering dorm mate. If Arthur’s footie friends could see him now, he would never hear the end of it. But he had left all of those people behind when he had left Uther and his unreasonable expectations. Glancing at his sleeping charge out of the corner of his eye, he reaffirmed the belief that pursuing his dream and forsaking a life of privilege was the best thing he had ever done.

Resolved once more, he pocketed his wallet and proceeded to scan Merlin’s items without a single hitch, even managing to slip his debit card out of his pocket without causing him to stir… until he had to put in the boy’s pin number. He knew the number, had seen Merlin type it in countless times over their semester together. He simply could not remember the order the numbers came in. Was it 4280, or 8240, or 0428, or…? He tried various combinations of the same digits, yet could not seem to land on the right one. Finally, in a burst of recognition, he keyed in 4820, only to have the machine lock him out for suspected theft. Arthur valiantly resisted the urge to bang his head against the irritating conglomeration of wires and plastic. Violence, unfortunately, would solve nothing.

He was almost expecting it this time, that soft and somehow solicitous cough, accompanied by the appearance of the quiet store manager and his always-near-at-hand kerchief.

“Is there a problem, sir?” _Cough, cough._

“Yes, there is. I finally remembered my dorm mate’s pin number, but the computer will no longer accept it.” Arthur held his breath, hoping that the man would simply accept his story at face value. He would certainly never try to do anything so dishonest as to swipe someone else’s debit card for his own gain, but he was fully aware that not all people were quite so scrupulous, and times were hard.

It looked as though he was in luck, since the store manager simply coughed and then said, “Just one moment, sir. I believe that I can clear this up with little trouble.” He went to work, and when he was finished moved out of Arthur’s way. “The machine should accept the transaction now, sir. If that will be all?” Arthur nodded and then raised Merlin’s card to the little pad once more, only to pause at the sound of yet another muffled cough.

“Wait.” The man turned at his quiet demand, an expectant expression on his face –what little could be seen from behind the hand kerchief – and Arthur, after setting Merlin’s debit card down, fished around in his coat pocket for a cinnamon hard candy. He wordlessly proffered the cellophane-covered sweet and the man came toward him to delicately accept the offering.

“Thank you, sir. You are most kind.” Came the stuffy voice, yet Arthur found its formality far less grating now. He saw George briefly examine the checkout machine, his expression still perfectly polite, but a strange sort of knowledge in his eyes. “I think you will find your next trip to Alba’s far more agreeable.” Arthur simply nodded; he had the oddest feeling that the store manager was right.

As the odd man departed for the last time, Arthur finished performing Merlin’s transaction, everything happening as it should.

At Arthur’s side, Merlin stirred, feeling a shift in the air again, signaling the return of balance to the magic in the store. He could not believe that he had allowed himself to sleep. Looking around at the shopping cart now full of bagged items and noting the strong arm encircling him, Merlin relaxed, realizing that everything was as it should be.

Leaning slightly away to look at his friend’s face, he asked if anything had gone wrong. After a long moment of silence, Arthur simply said, “Let’s go home.”

Merlin would never know exactly what had happened that night, but what he did know was this: in the many years that followed, Arthur never failed to return something to its proper place in an Alba’s ever again.


End file.
